


The Invitation

by caitirin



Category: Good Omens
Genre: M/M, good omens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-05
Updated: 2006-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitirin/pseuds/caitirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale finds a letter just before Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for Glass_icarus for the 2006 go_exchange Holiday Exchange. I hope that you enjoy the story. Many thanks to Miss_next and Elaby for the beta reading. You were both wonderful and helpful!

____________________________________________________

Aziraphale read the letter twice. It was a bit unusual for Crowley to ask him to dinner on this night of all nights. Normally Crowley spent most Christmas Eve's holed away somewhere ignoring all the good cheer. And Aziraphale felt more than a little bit conflicted that he would have to turn it down. Attendance at the function 'up there' was not exactly optional.

When the Almighty requested your presence it wasn't something you could brush off with a 'sorry, I've got plans'.

It was Christmas Eve after all, and Crowley knew that Aziraphale would have plans, the same plans he'd had for about two thousand years every Christmas Eve. And it wasn't as though Aziraphale wouldn't have preferred to spend the time at the Ritz with Crowley; for one the wine is far better. The 'company' parties were always the same. The same tired jokes about Aziraphale's flaming sword and how he'd lost it. The same standard conversations about the ineffable nature of it all. And didn't everyone look lovely!

Aziraphale supposed that it was Crowley's fault that he found it all a bit boring and staid. It was just like a demon to make Heaven seem... not so heavenly. Aziraphale further supposed that it was his own darn fault for hanging around with a demon for so incredibly long. But Crowley was such a nice demon. If such a thing were possible.

Aziraphale folded the letter up and scrutinized the envelope. It was the first year after the big to-do last year with the Anti-Christ and all that.

Both sides were, of course, declaring the whole thing a brilliant victory on their parts, and not admitting that any mistakes could possibly have been made.

Aziraphale sighed. It would probably be a very tedious party this year. It made Crowley's invitation all the more inviting. He put the invitation away and went on with the business of discouraging customers from buying any books.

Still, as he prompted a customer to leave the store he found himself reflecting on what he might say in turning down the celestial invitation (really more of an expectation when it came down to it). "So sorry, I've made plans. Working late, you know. Evil never sleeps and all that." They'd never believe that. And besides, it would be a lie, at least the part about working late.

Or was it a lie? Couldn't meeting with Crowley really be considered work after all? Encouraging good thoughts... or keeping the demon from actually being demonic. Aziraphale stopped. This was getting ridiculous; figuring out ways to fib one's way out of a heavenly party was certainly not behavior befitting an angel. He shook his head. Probably what he deserved, spending so much time in the company of a demonic being.

Unless of course he could convert Crowley to the side of good, which was, of course, wholly unlikely to ever occur. Though... no one else had to know that... maybe he could convince them -

"Really! Aziraphale, what can you be thinking. Stop these prevarications this instant," he said to himself.

"I always knew you'd go batty one day from spending all your time in here with these books," Crowley said, smirking behind his sunglasses as he came in through the door.

"Crowley, when did - what do - Err, Hello. What can I do for you?" Crowley had the eerie habit of showing up at just the wrong time, or possibly the right time, depending on your perspective.

"Oh nothing, Angel, I was just in the neighborhood. Encouraging some petty theft and such." Crowley looked around the bookshop, avoiding Aziraphale's perplexed expression. He was looking for a letter which he'd left for Aziraphale, which he had later decided was a bad idea. An invitation, to be exact. He never should have sent it. He was rather hoping that Aziraphale hadn't yet found it and he could secret it away again.

What he had been thinking, he couldn't quite remember. Inviting the Angel away on Christmas, the second most holy day on the books Upstairs (next to Easter). Crowley figured it was just a goof up, a little virgin getting accidentally knocked up and then the big cover up. But of course, Crowley was a demon. It was his job to think of such things. Aziraphale had turned a peculiar shade when Crowley had first voiced the idea, and so Crowley had never brought it up again.

But this year... this year Crowley didn't really want to spend the holiday by himself. The whole damn world, just about, buzzing around with cheer and gifts and Crowley eating somewhere alone. It was downright depressing.

Crowley had decided that it was just fine to celebrate the religious holidays the way the humans did. After all, humans had almost completely divorced any religious or holy meaning from most of them by now, why shouldn't a demon celebrate the rise of soulless commercialism and the death of "good 'insert religion here' values". A demon should! Right? Certainly. Crowley had convinced himself of that. Mostly. Well, enough. A demon didn't really have to be absolutely convinced. Absolute conviction was for heavenly types. And you couldn't tell him that Aziraphale didn't waver or wonder sometimes. Oh sure, he denied it up and down, but Crowley wasn't born yesterday. He knew uncertainty when he saw it.

And then he saw the invitation. Tucked inside a book that Aziraphale had been reading, judging by the mug of tea still sitting steaming beside it. Crowley frowned; it was open, and obviously Aziraphale had read it. No sense in pretending he'd never sent it, and no chance to steal it back.

"What's the dismal frowning for?" Aziraphale asked as he moved a stack of books out of the way.

"Oh nothing." Crowley said, hedging. "Well I just wanted to nip in and say hello. I should be off. Much... mischief afoot." Crowley turned around and left quickly.

Aziraphale stared at the door. "Err, all right then." He frowned.

///

All the shops around Aziraphale's book shop had been playing popular Christmas music for about two and a half months now. It was enough to drive you batty. There were a few instances where Aziraphale had felt rather guilty for entertaining some very un-angelic thoughts about the fates that he wished upon the radio stations, the radios themselves, and the proprietors who owned them.

He was feeling distinctly depressed this holiday season. It was quite unpleasant to feel this way amidst the general cheer.

It lingered despite his best efforts to ignore it. And so he was in a rather less than stellar mood when up in heaven for a meeting on the morning of the Christmas Eve gathering. Michael was droning on in that spectacularly uninteresting way that only he could manage, about the latest upgrades to everyone's flaming swords, and making pointed glances at Aziraphale, who still didn't have one.

He couldn't have been the only angel ever to have... err... misplaced his sword. Though he did suppose the line about waiting for the paperwork to go through was wearing a little bit thin after so many years. To be quite honest, Aziraphale didn't really want a flaming sword. It was rather a pain to have to carry about. Always accidentally catching things afire or causing people to come to all the wrong kinds of conclusions about his intentions. It had been ages since Aziraphale had needed to put in An Appearance and Reveal The Word to anyone at all. Really, a flaming sword in a bookshop simply was impractical; Crowley felt the same way about fiery-eyed steeds, always nearly accidentally trampling you and leaving steaming piles of...

"Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale looked up suddenly as his name was called. "Er, yes, sounds heavenly and quite ineffable."

Eli laughed. "No, the meeting's over. You must have been reading the minutes of last meeting and your attention was so focused..." Eli smiled a bit. Everyone else had left, many of them trailing after Michael as he continued to orate about his many glorious victories over demons.

Aziraphale pinkened a little bit at being discovered daydreaming. "Err yes. Fascinating subject -" he glanced at the notes, "long term effects of random acts of kindness." Aziraphale paused for a moment. "I am actually rather fond of that idea."

"I quite agree. So, I suppose we'll be seeing you at the Christmas party, then." Eli gathered his notes.

"Actually not. I have plans that evening," Aziraphale said without thinking. He stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he'd just said.

"Plans? Pity, I enjoy that tea mix you always bring. Well, we'll see you around I suppose. Flaming swords are overrated if you ask me. Happy Christmas, Aziraphale. Always nice to spend the holidays with people close to your heart, I always say."

Aziraphale nearly dropped his things as Eli left. Had he really just managed to get out of having to go? Did Eli know more than he was letting on? Was hellfire and brimstone going to rain down on his head?

Aziraphale walked around on proverbial eggshells all that afternoon back at his bookshop. He jumped at the clock chiming, and was certain when the water boiled in the tea kettle that it must be the sound preceding some kind of divine retribution for shirking the attendance of a holy function to hang around with a demon.

Because that's certainly where he was going now. Right? After all, no point in worrying that it was a bad decision if you weren't going to actually do it in the end. Aziraphale smiled softly; that was probably the kind of reasoning that Crowley would have used.

Crowley. It seemed that no matter what he did, no matter what he thought, what kind of reasoning he tried; his thoughts always came back to Crowley. All the time.

Spending the holidays with someone close to your heart.

Even if that someone is a demon?

Aziraphale looked at the clock. It was near to five o'clock. The invitation said six o'clock. He sipped his tea. Surely he ought to do something virtuous and selfless, he ought to work if he'd skipped out on the heavenly gathering.

Someone close to your heart.

///

Crowley was sitting alone at a table for two. It was stupid to come. Aziraphale had to be in heaven on this night. And it was incredibly stupid to have invited Aziraphale to dinner. It had probably given the angel all kinds of trauma trying to decide what to do and what to say and now Crowley wished to heav- to he- to somewhere that he'd never left the stupid invitation in the Angel's shop.

He called for one last drink for the road. He might as well go home.

"I do hope that this seat isn't taken."

Crowley looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Aziraphale, dressed in a hopelessly old suit (the Angel was perpetually out of fashion), smiled down at him as he unwound a scarf from around his neck.

Crowley could only gape in amazement. Aziraphale took that as his cue and gave his coat to the be-suited gentleman who came over to take it. Aziraphale's cheeks were rosy, as he'd just come in from outside.

"It's just starting to snow," Aziraphale said by way of explanation. "It should be a white Christmas. Such lovely weather for a Christmas, don't you think."

Crowley stared a bit more.

Aziraphale waved over a waiter. "I believe that I'll have a brandy to warm me up, please."

"You're here," Crowley said rather stupidly. "I mean... I thought that you wouldn't be able to. You always have to be up there on Christmas Eve."

"You're right. Normally. This year I said I had other plans. I suppose they'll get along without me." Aziraphale smiled.

"But, won't you... be reprimanded for missing it or some such thing?" Crowley asked.

"Perhaps, but my side has always been more about the forgiveness. I imagine I'll be fine. I was a little surprised by your invitation, actually." Aziraphale took his brandy from the waiter who came by with it. He sipped it and felt the warmth beginning to spread through him.

"I guess what I really wanted to know is just what you'd do if I asked. Spurn the entire heavenly host to hang around with me? I can't believe that you did. I'm definitely becoming a bad influence on you. This kind of thing can't look good on your C.V.," Crowley said with a bit of a smile.

"I suppose. But I think that I made the right choice. I thought about it for a while. They say that He is Love, you know. And Christmas is supposed to be about Him. And if He is love... well. Here I am. With you."

The waiter arrived. "Your drink 'for the road', sir." He set the drink in front of Crowley.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale. "You know, I think we might order dinner, after all."


End file.
